Not So Convenient
by pocket-cheese
Summary: Shizuo finally has a job that he likes. Who'd have known that a single pest could make it so much more difficult?


Izaya didn't know when the act of fumbling for change had become a source of excitement for him, or when walking down the aisle at the convenience store transformed into a fantasy about walking down a church aisle, but it happened.

He'd like to deny that his trips to the store in Namie's place were motivated solely by the prospect of his fingers brushing with the hot checkout guy's, but he couldn't. Not when he returned home from a half hour round trip bearing a frugal packet of mints and clutching the receipt as though his existence depended on it.

In reality, he knew that the exact day he'd began to find the convenience store's forest green uniform sexy corresponded with the day that Heiwajima Shizuo began working there as a store assistant, but he wasn't going to admit that out loud.

Heiwajima Shizuo had had numerous jobs over the years. He'd been glassed in the face as a bouncer, spat on as a bartender, passed out from heat exhaustion at the Pokémon Centre (those Charmander suits are a real bitch), burnt himself as a waiter and got chemical spray in his eye as a cleaner. In a way, stacking shelves and working at the checkout was proving to be the peaceful job he had always wanted...or at least it had been until that _beansprout_ walked in. There was something about the way that he purposefully sought out Shizuo's till (even when the others were empty) and stared at him so unabashedly while he was serving other customers that Shizuo found both irritating and alluring. He was a pest, there was no denying it, but somehow that little flea made him all too aware of the tightness of his shirt - and his _pants_ for that matter - especially when he dropped his change on the floor and bent down to collect it so that Shizuo was graced with premium view of his perfect arse.

He began to suspect that it was intentional the second time it happened, but going by the soft pink flush of the flea's face, there was always the chance that he became clumsy when flustered. His suspicions were confirmed when he came out of the staff room from his break and the mite immediately stiffened, knocking peppers all over the floor in the process. He went to a different cashier that day, and Shizuo had had to eliminate any thoughts of hurt and betrayal as he watched the flea take his receipt and leave without a backwards glance. Even masturbating crushing cardboard boxes in the stockroom had failed to get out his frustration that day.

Shizuo had taken to noticing little things about his pesky customer - how he always wore a fur-trimmed coat, even when it was warm outside, how his eyes were such a peculiar shade of brown they were almost red, his irises outlined beautifully in black, how he got dimples when he laughed…the way he chattered nervously every time he came to Shizuo's checkout:

"It's so cold outside!"

"It's busy in here today."

"I can't wait for it to be cherry blossom season, all the people together, all of the drama!"

"My secretary says that these apples are imports, do you think that that means the importation restrictions are over?"

By his fifth visit, Shizuo had taken to covertly watching the pest putting things in his basket, watching from the corner of his eye as the flea's shirt pulled taut over his chest when he reached for things on the upper shelves. Contrary to popular belief, it seemed that you couldn't tell a lot about a person from their groceries. All that Shizuo had discovered was that this man ate a very healthy diet, which was more than he could say for himself, and what brand of deodorant he liked to buy. Sometimes, however, he let little things slip, details that Shizuo clung to. He had 14 year old twin sisters, discovered when he bought two rolls of glittery yellow and green wrapping paper ("Tch, who'd have known that shopping for fourteen year old girls could be so difficult! They're a nightmare even when they aren't trying to be!"). He was incredibly excited by local news, and always bought a newspaper when he came in ("Society latch onto headlines as the incontrovertible truth, yet fail to recognize how even the most 'neutral' of news is intrinsically biased! Just look at all of the news that they leave out, all of the happenings of this city that they deem too _unimportant_ to feature within their pages! It's fascinating, absolutely fascinating!") He owned multiple phones, Shizuo discovered in a strange twist of two phones ringing at once, the flea rapidly pulling _six_ different phones from his pockets and sorting through them until he found the culprits. Going by the number of credit cards in his wallet, he also had multiple bank accounts. Shizuo had to wonder what career could possibly necessitate so many, but he dared not ask.

It was on the sixth visit that he started to call Shizuo by his name (or _his_ irritating variant of it), leaning in just a little bit closer as he took the receipt, his eyes sparkling playfully as he called over his shoulder "have a nice evening, Shizu-chan!"

In the space of six visits, Shizuo had come to find the man's quirks endearing, but _this_ , this was too much! As if dropping his change everywhere hadn't been tantalizing enough (the image of his wonderfully pert ass was still ingrained in Shizuo's brain, and he couldn't stop his face and his _groin_ from burning when he imagined all the things he'd like to do to it), he had to go and call him _that_ , _to his face_! Subtle flirting was one thing, but being so blatant about it...he'd finally got himself a respectful job, and with a few simple words this puny bugger could turn him into a blushing mess…

It was on his seventh visit to the store that Izaya found the receipt pressed into his hand to have a mobile number on the back, Shizu-chan's name circled several times in smudged red biro.

"Shizu-chan's number?"

"It's Shizuo. That's why I circled it."

"Does Shizuo-kun not like nicknames?"

"Not really."

"But surely you must have one for your favourite customer?" Izaya teased, pocketing the receipt with a smirk.

"Who said you're my favourite?" There was a pause as Shizuo toyed with the hem of his shirt, avoiding eye contact before adding sheepishly "I would have asked you for your phone number, but I don't want six of them."

"A wise move on your part, Shizuo-kun!" Izaya extended his hand, slim fingers wrapping around Shizuo's as he shook it for slightly longer than necessary. "I'm Orihara Izaya. Pleased to meet you."


End file.
